Walking in Love: Embracing Diversity with Every Step

From DSW to DEI?

Hey friend,

In a recent post, I shared an Ash Wednesday story I wrote for The Banner’s online magazine in 2022, which was later shortened to be the first meditation in my book Lent Through the Little Things: Encountering Jesus in Life’s Ordinary Moments.

This week, I did the opposite. I took a short meditation—Shoe Store—from my Lent book and expanded it into a longer article for The Banner. I love it when I can repurpose a piece, and this story’s message seemed appropriate for our current times.

This story was first published in TheBanner.org’s “As I Was Saying” column on March 7, 2025. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Walking in Love: Embracing Diversity with Every Step

Of shoes and people.

I walked into Discount Shoe Warehouse—a.k.a. DSW—needing a new pair of shoes. Shelves housing their vast selection were organized into neat, distinctive categories. Athletic shoes, casual shoes, dress shoes. Short boots, tall boots, slippers. Flats, heels, and platforms. Within each group, I found even more variety. Suede, leather, and canvas. Blue, black, brown, white—every color in the rainbow.

After finding the perfect pair of shoes, I stood in line to make my purchase.

That’s when I noticed the people. Like the shoes on the shelves, a diverse group of shoppers and cashiers surrounded me. With bodies of different shapes, sizes, and colors, they wore their hair—also in many colors — long, short, curly, straight, or pinned up into a tight bun. A family walked into the store speaking Spanish. Behind me stood two women in traditional Amish clothing, quietly conversing with each other in German.

In this singular, small corner of a northern Indiana shoe store, I glimpsed the world at large.

Curiosity took over as I took in the plethora of differences, and then I assumed—even judged—aspects of the lives, status, and beliefs of these nearby strangers. It’s a natural human tendency to judge others based on our first impressions—to look at an outsider and form an opinion or assumptions because of their appearance or behavior. But those assumptions are incorrect almost every time.

I looked again at the many shoes and thought about the diversity of people. As I stood in that line with a shoebox tucked under my arm, I imagined walking in the shoes of others.

A walk in their shoes.

Have you ever wondered how it would feel to walk in someone else’s shoes for a day? If we could experience the life of another person, what would we learn about them? Just as important, what would we learn about ourselves?

Each person we encounter possesses a life and past we cannot see at first glance. They carry pain and sadness, worry and stress. Hopefully, they also carry love, joy, and some happiness. But how can we know? We can’t walk in their shoes.

Our church supports a local women’s shelter (St. Margaret’s House in South Bend, Ind.) that recently hosted their 26th annual Winter Walk. The theme for the day was “Walk a Mile in Her Shoes.” My husband and I joined several church friends and almost 500 strangers in walking the downtown streets. We gained insight into where unsheltered women and children spend their days and nights, i.e. typically on the streets, in search of support and stability.

Bundled up in scarves, gloves, and winter boots, we walked the mile through blustery winds and falling snow. Even though our walk couldn’t put us literally into these women’s shoes, it opened the door and our hearts to ways we could get to know them. We saw where they gather to eat, relax, or read with their children. We peeked into the gently used clothing shop. We admired their beautiful silk painting workshop and art gallery. Later, we watched a video in which several of the women told their personal stories of heartbreak and healing.

Although our church has supported St. Margaret’s House for several years, I had never stepped foot inside this remarkable ministry. By doing so, I became more aware of lives very different from my own, but toward whom I now felt love and compassion, and a desire to help if I could.

An uncomfortable fit.

Our world has become a melting pot of diversity. Sadly, it’s also a hotbed of stereotypes and prejudice. Many of us strive to keep our distance from those who differ and, like the distinct categories of shoes at DSW, we gravitate toward our tidy groups, looking for similarities.

What if, instead of arranging ourselves on neat, disparate shelves, we mixed ourselves up? I recall the “shoe game” at kids’ parties when they throw their shoes into an enormous pile. The confusion and searching for one’s shoes brings some chaos, but also much joy and laughter. Perhaps if we mixed ourselves up and bumped up against our differences, we’d also find unexpected delight.

Jesus told us how to handle our differences, and it’s not chaotic or complicated. He commanded us to “Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another” (John 13:34b). He didn’t say to love only the people we know, or to love those just like ourselves. He even called us to love our enemies.

We are to love one another. Period.

Still, saying and doing are not the same thing. Although it’s fairly easy to say we love others, living out Jesus’ command in our actions can be uncomfortable. It’s like that gorgeous pair of shoes that looks perfect on the rack, but which, when on your feet, pinches and pokes in the most unpleasant ways.

Steps for walking the walk.

Change your heart. Even though a new pair of shoes can be stiff and uncomfortable at first, there are ways to soften and break them in. If we aim to follow Jesus’ teaching, the first step toward understanding and loving others is to notice our human tendency to pre-judge and stereotype. Praying for a desire to know and love our fellow humans shows an earnest attempt toward changing our hearts.

Change your mind. As we develop a change of heart, the best way to change our minds is through learning. Listening to podcasts that explore Christian responses to diversity can bring new understanding (I suggest Human Together with

Sarah E. Westfall

and No Small Endeavor with Lee C. Camp). Another way to cultivate empathy and understanding is through reading memoir and historical accounts—real or fictitious—written by or about marginalized people groups. In our churches, we can suggest speakers and authors knowledgeable on the topics of culture and community for our adult and teen education classes.

Take action. After a softening of our hearts and minds, we can tiptoe into taking action by saying “hello” and simply being kind to strangers. Then, we take things further by having conversations focused on listening and understanding, to create new relationships and friendships. Jesus tells us to welcome strangers. In our church, work, school, and neighborhood communities, we can offer the gift of belonging. Reaching out to the awkward teen, disabled person, unsheltered individual, single mom, or whatever “other” we might view as “different” embodies the love Christ intended for his church.

Give support. As we bridge the gap between our talk and our walk, we can offer tangible support when needed. Providing financial assistance or a meal, giving a ride, helping a refugee family get settled, volunteering at a women’s shelter or homeless center—all demonstrate Jesus' words: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matt. 25:40b).

Share and connect. If we are helping from a position of privilege, it’s easy to feel prideful about doing “good works” but to neglect forming genuine connection and friendship. The more we’re able to share our authentic selves—admitting the baggage we might carry from early instruction or role models, and the more we accept others—listening to their stories without dehumanizing them, the more we will value all of God’s children.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Walk alongside. As our new walking shoes feel more comfortable, we will truly appreciate the differences in others. We might not be able to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes—shoes very different from our own—but there’s nothing to prevent us from walking alongside them.

When we do, we might even find our own walks enhanced with beauty, joy, and goodness.

What are your thoughts? Have you experienced the blessing of “walking alongside?”